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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098753">Some Kind of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs'>littlethiefs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Post Empire of Gold, dara said lets go lesbians, harry ron hermione who, this is a trio i never knew i needed tbfh but u will now have to pry it from my cold dead hands, this is based on something shannon told me happens post-eog, this is the golden trio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:22:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shannon told me that she wrote an alternate epilogue post-EoG where Zaynab and Aqisa get lost in the wilds of Daevastana, come across Dara and decide to go ifrit hunting with him. Over time, they become friends. This trio now lives in my head rent-free, so here we are.</p><p>In this fic, they've been traveling for a few weeks, falling into a comfortable rhythm, seeing each other anew. Dara broods, as always. Zaynab makes him an offer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid, Zaynab al Qahtani/Aqisa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Some Kind of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is actually the first Daevabad fic I ever wrote. I just never posted it.</p><p>Because it was my first, I didn't think about canon too hard, so there might be some inconsistencies and I fully own them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With each mile he covered, Dara’s heart sank a little further in his chest. With each mile he covered, he was one mile closer to Egypt. Thoughts of everything that had happened since the last time he had been there - all the regret and all the guilt - crashed over him like an ocean threatening to pull him into its watery depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been hunting Vizaresh for months now, tracing whispers speaking of humans who had suddenly acquired more power overnight than was possible. The ifrit was unpredictable, seemingly selling the slave vessels with no discernible plan in mind. Dara had only managed to recover two so far, both within the borders of Daevastana: the first had been close to Daevabad, the second thousands of miles away, closer to the lands of the Geziri. Creator, he did not know how he would do this… but he had promised himself that he would, and she had promised him she would find a way to free them. With the memory of this promise on her lips, Dara patted the inner pocket of his jacket, checking once more that the two rings he had already recovered were still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara glanced over at the two horses riding beside his, wondering - not for the first time - how he had ended up with the strange company he was currently keeping. He had stumbled into them a month after leaving his home in the wilderness of Daevabad. When he had stepped closer to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, Aqisa had pushed her princess behind her, settling herself squarely between Zaynab and Dara with a dagger in her hand. He had backed away, hands held in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” He had asked in utter shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aqisa and Zaynab exchanged a glance, before Zaynab stood up a little straighter and said, rather unconvincingly, “Traveling.” Dara narrowed his eyes and surveyed their faces. They looked exhausted with their hair a mess, dust smattering their clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Traveling where?” When they’d given no answer, he’d understood. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He said, attempting but failing to hold back a chuckle. He gestured at Aqisa’s weapon. “Put that away, girl, I could squash you like a bug if I wanted to, but I mean you no harm.” A long pause followed his words before the Qahtani princess had nodded and Aqisa had straightened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, Afshin? Last we heard, you had escaped the veil to go look for the ifrit your Nahid was so fond of,” she’d spat. Dara had stiffened at the mention of Manizheh, but he’d simply nodded and admitted the truth. Upon hearing that Vizaresh had proven to be elusive, Aqisa had smiled slyly and exchanged a conversation with Zaynab in Geziriyya, much to his annoyance. The next moment, they had decided they were joining him in his hunt and no amount of horrified protests from Dara would sway them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their initial weeks together had been fraught with tense suspicion. They rarely stood within five feet of each other, making conversation only when strictly necessary. But now, they had settled into a comfortable routine. Dara was loath to admit to himself that having some company was nice after all, no matter how many times he had reassured Nahri he would be just fine on his own. The prickly princess and her fierce protector had begun to feel like a steady, familiar presence, bringing him a comfort he had felt with his soldiers. The difference was that his soldiers had had some semblance of respect for their legendary commander. These two, however, had no such reverence and hurled insults at him often. He had minded once. Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can stop here for the night,” he said as they approached a copse of trees he had been eyeing from afar. After tying their horses to the tree trunks, the three set themselves down on the ground. Zaynab sighed, as she always did, after a long day’s ride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara had soon learned one thing about the Qahtani princess: she was fierce and strong-willed, but she was still a royal who had rarely been separated from the comforts of her palace before. Aqisa had told him that the two had attempted to conjure up a feather pillow with her djinn magic, but Dara knew their magic wasn’t capable of that, limited by Suleiman’s curse as it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic was capable of it, but he’d figured Zaynab could do with some roughening up. Not that he would ever tell her. Tiny as she was, sometimes she frightened him, much like another fierce and strong-willed woman he had once traveled with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long silence spent resting their sore behinds, Aqisa spoke. “Is it just me or has he been quieter and broodier than usual recently?” she asked, resting her head on Zaynab’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t thought it possible, but he has,” Zaynab replied. Dara scowled at the two of them, settled cozily against each other. He felt a little pang seeing their comfortable intimacy, and looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sitting right here,” he growled. “I’ll leave you two to talk about me as if I don’t exist.” He got to his feet, and stalked out of the copse. He thought he heard running water nearby and began to follow the sound, quietly padding across grass drenched in the orange glow of sunset. He hadn’t been walking long when he heard footsteps behind him. Dara whirled around, his khanjar already in his hand. Zaynab al-Qahtani raised her eyebrows at him, and he quickly stashed away his weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the wisest choice to sneak up on me,” he said, turning back to follow the sound of water. She followed, quickening her pace to come walk beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t sneak,” she replied. “You’re not as sharp as you usually are, Afshin.” That’s what she always called him. Afshin. He supposed that no matter how hard he tried, to many, he would always be just that: a lethal weapon used to inflict utter devastation in the name of a greater good. The title he had once taken such pride in now cut into him like barbed wire, but she could call him whatever she chose to after all he had done to her family, her city. If his name never left her lips, so be it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something you need, princess? Or do you insist on being a thorn in my side for the sake of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” she asked. At his look of confusion, she clarified, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Am</span>
  </em>
  <span> I still a princess? My father is dead, Daevabad is no longer ruled by Geziri royals, so what does that make me?” Dara thought for a second, then nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something you need, Zaynab?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t turn into the wind and sneak off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would that be so bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe it or not, Afshin, I have grown accustomed to having you around.” Dara was more than a little astonished to see a flicker of a smile flit across her face; she smiled easily and often around Aqisa, but never with him. Dara gave a curt nod, and they walked in silence towards the water, the sound of which was getting louder with every step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before Aqisa and I left Daevabad, we visited Nahri at her new home,” Zaynab began. At the sound of her name, Dara’s breath hitched. “Quaint little place. A couple of rooms, full of medical books and paperwork and little trinkets. There was a reed boat sitting on the ledge of her window,” she paused, looking up at him before continuing, “along with a dagger. Pretty thing, encrusted with carnelians and lapis stones-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara whirled to look at her. “That was--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours,” Zaynab nodded. “Alizayd once told me she threatened to kill him with it.” Dara couldn’t help choke out a laugh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You would threaten a prince with your monster’s weapon, little thief. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You miss her, and as we get closer to where you first met her, you miss her all the more.” It wasn’t a question, rather a mere statement of fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t talk about Nahri with other people; he’d always thought he didn’t have the right to. He had broken her heart more times than he could count, yet she’d still forgiven him. He’d already been given more chances than anyone had the right, yet she’d still saved him. He tried not to think of her, tried not to remember the feel of her tears soaking through his shirt the last time he had seen her, but she was always there. Stumbling into his thoughts. Sometimes he felt that the little semblance of control he kept so tightly grasped within himself would shatter completely if he said her name aloud… but-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he whispered. “Creator, yes, I miss her more than I can put into words.” He swallowed, and they continued their walk, falling back into silence. This time, it was Dara who broke it, forcing some lightness into his voice. “I am aware my brooding is insufferable to you. I  suppose it is time I come to face the fact that I will never speak to her again, let alone see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be so sure?” They had finally reached the source of water. He had never enjoyed being around bodies of water before - not since he had been drowned in one. But hearing the sound of running water now reminded him of his travels with Nahri. Of her slipping into streams to wash herself, emerging with her mane of ebony hair soaked, droplets of water clinging to her skin. Of a stormy night where he had found shelter in a cave with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to enter the veil as soon as I stepped out of it the last time I saw her,” Dara said quietly. “I could no longer see her, though she had been standing a few feet away just a second ago. When I reached out, my hand met an invisible barrier… no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through.” And he had tried. Over and over. He had stood there for a day and a night, hoping against hope that something would change. When nothing did, he’d let out a scream of grief and frustration, before turning his back on his city one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can’t get in. That’s not the only way you can speak with her,” Zaynab shrugged, taking a seat by the bank of the stream. Dara sat down beside her, their shoulders brushing. “You told her you would leave the vessels near the Gozan; leave notes with them. Talk to her through them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A good idea,” Dara gave her a broken smile. “But I was a weapon of the Nahids, nothing more, nothing less, and weapons are not taught how to read or write.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zaynab looked at him intently for a long moment, then she chuckled softly. “You’ve been walking this Earth for over 1,400 years, and you never thought to teach yourself to read or write?” She shook her head incredulously. Dara scowled at her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, I had other things in mind. Eternal war and enslavement being two of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And brooding. You do a lot of that,” she teased. They listened to the water lapping at the banks for a little while, before Zaynab opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Dara looked at her quizzically. With tremendous hesitation, Zaynab reached out and took Dara’s hand in her own. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d burst into flames in front of his eyes. He looked at her hand squeezing his, and squeezed back tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll teach you, Af-” she began, then stopped. “Dara.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zaynab made a strange mark on the piece of parchment Dara had conjured for her; a downward line, the bottom of which looped up to intersect itself in the middle. “This is an ‘azar,’ and it makes an ‘aaa’ sound,” she said to Dara, passing him the parchment and quill. He replicated the mark- more accurately he made a pitiful attempt, then flinched at the childlike, incomprehensible scrawl he was looking down at. “Try again,” Zaynab said patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second attempt wasn’t much better, nor the attempt after that. Dara sighed in frustration, shoved the parchment aside, and sprang up to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could shoot an insect across the field with an arrow before you had the time to blink. I know how to use swords from the west, khanjars from the east, even those zulfiqars your people are so fond of. How can </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gestured with disgust at the parchment, “be so difficult?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe it or not, being able to read and write requires something other than physical dexterity, a hot temper and a manic desire to murder.” Dara scowled at her. “I know it’s asking a lot of you, but it wouldn’t hurt you to practice some patience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patience wasn’t a virtue that came easily to Dara, but he sat back down. After several attempts, his letter began to resemble the mark Zaynab had made. He beamed down at it after she gave him a nod of approval. Zaynab took the parchment, scribbling down another marking. This one resembled two circles set on a diagonal line. “This is a ‘reh.’ It makes a ‘rrr’ sound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While trying to replicate the marking, Dara asked, “How many of these letters must I learn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“32.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“32?!” He spluttered. “You mean to tell me that I must attempt to write and memorize 32 of these letters?” When Zaynab nodded, he hissed. “Creator. We better keep going, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that evening after they had eaten a supper of herbed flatbread moistened with butter, Dara conjured date wine for himself, and grape wine for his two companions. They would resume their journey towards the Sahrayn lands on the morrow, and he felt yet another pang at the prospect of being closer to Egypt. He supposed he had to shove down that feeling of dread, and continue on his quest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long silence, he broke it with a question he had asked himself more times than he could count. “I have been wondering why you decided to join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aqisa took a swig of the wine, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and spoke. “It seems like a noble enough motive. Shocking that you, of all people, could be doing something so noble, yet here we are.” She smirked at him, and he knew she was teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t help but be a little suspicious that you have ulterior motives,” Dara said. “Of course, if you’d just wanted to cut my throat and rid the world of the Scourge, you would have done it a long time ago. Noble motive or not, I am still left wondering why you two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>… with me.” They exchanged a glance, then Zaynab spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve lived most of my life in one palace or another.” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper on the wind, but she laced her fingers with Aqisa’s and continued. “I grew up knowing my place in the royal family. Muntadhir would eventually become emir, Alizayd his Qaid, and I would marry someone to strengthen political ties, making it a little easier for my brother to rule. I had always been prepared to do what was required of me, no matter how much I despised the idea of it. But now that the monarchy has dissolved and Daevabad is back in the hands of a Nahid-” she broke into a smile, “I am free, and I chose to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara pondered Zaynab’s words. Perhaps he had more in common with the Qahtani than he had previously thought: assigned a role in life, becoming mere pawns who had to put aside their personal desires to further other people’s causes in the name of order and peace. He had far more blood on his hands than Zaynab did or ever would, but he could understand the intense compulsion to shed that role and carve yourself a legacy of your own choosing. She would be able to do it, he had no doubt; he could only hope that it wasn’t too late for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A shafit Nahid,” Aqisa barked a laugh. “Wouldn’t the Nahids of old love to see that!” A year ago, Dara would have prickled at the open insolence in Aqisa’s tone. Now, he almost laughed with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They would have burned Daevabad to the ground themselves,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Where were you going when you found me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anywhere,” Aqisa replied. “We had talked about traveling to Agnivansha, with their elaborate architecture, colorful attire and fragrant foods. But we got lost,” she finished weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agnivansha’s east; you were in the northern wilderness of Daevastana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ashin,” Aqisa scowled at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t have a goal in mind, truly,” Zaynab added. “We just wanted to leave Daevabad for a while, travel to other places, face some adventures together. When we heard what you wanted to do, I suppose we thought what better way to go on adventures than with an unpredictable, legendary Daeva with a noble motive. Plus, how bad could you be? Nahri seemed to like traveling with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara smiled at that, putting aside his wine. Pleasantly relaxed, he settled onto a patch of grass that looked particularly comfortable, prepared to sleep. He heard shuffling, and knew Aqisa and Zaynab were doing the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Strange day</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought to himself, recalling the Qahtani princess’s unusual kindness, how she had encouraged him to keep trying with his letters. He had learned four letters today; he would learn four more tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and called on his magic, picturing the items he wanted to conjure. Warmth surged through his body, from the tips of his fingers to the sinews of his arms, settling deep in his chest. When he opened his eyes, two feather pillows and a comfortable-looking blanket sat between him and the two women. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you,” he said, turning to face them. Zaynab looked at the bedding incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have done that this whole time?” she asked in a lethal voice, before grabbing a pillow and hitting him in the face with it. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Dara burst into laughter, the booming sound of his mirth carrying along the wind. He held out the pillow to her, still grinning. Aqisa and Zaynab exchanged a bemused glance, then they took it from him and settled back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you could laugh like that,” he heard the princess mutter after a long while.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t know I could laugh like that anymore either</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dara thought to himself, before drifting into a deep sleep.</span>
</p>
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